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by slimeblocks



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, they talk and cry a lot idk what else to tag this as HAHAHAH, tommys got a lot going on can you tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimeblocks/pseuds/slimeblocks
Summary: tommy and tubbo talk after mcc 12
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Kudos: 37





	home

**Author's Note:**

> hi! welcome back! i hope u guys enjoy this :] some angst from the convo tommy and tubbo had at the end of mcc. 
> 
> if either of them r uncomfy w this i will absolutely take it down.

a heavy weight settles over tommy chest, only getting heavier as he and tubbo step away from their two other MCC teammates as the high energy of the event fades into the rapidly cooling night air. the tension between the two of them is soft, the kind that settles deep into your bones, unsettling and latching onto you, the kind that doesn’t leave until whatever’s caused it is resolved, and eats at you in a slow fashion until someone breaks it.

leaning against the bar he’d led them both to, tommy exhales through his nose, unsure of what to say. tubbo also leans onto it, facing tommy however, arms crossed. from his peripherals, tommy can tell he’s tired. the deep kind, not just from participating in the championships. the kind that comes from strenuous, stressful and never ending work that eats at you physically, and mentally. his mind flashes with familiarity when he realises that it was often a look wilbur wore when he was alive. one that tommy did his best to ease, but never could. he wonders disantly if that was because he was the problem. he doesn’t dwell on that thought for very long.

(he knows the answer is yes, and shoves down the wince he feels coming when he realises he's likely the reason why tubbo is wearing it too.)

“so, uh,” tommy rubs a hand on the back of his neck, trying to be casual. he doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how to position his hands- he also knows he looks a little worse for wear. even though he’d done his best to clean up before MCC, he’d still had various people coming up to him to check on him, ask if he was okay, if he’d been sleeping well (or at all, jokingly, in fundy’s case, and tommy had frozen, wondering if it was _that_ noticeable), and every time he’d opened his mouth he’d seen a flash of lime green swathed in pink appear in his peripherals, and he’d taken a deep breath in and plastered a smile on his face and reassured people that he was fine. and he was fine. he was. definitely. he shakes his head. "i guess this is it.”

tubbo smiles, and god, he looks old. older than the sixteen that he was supposed to be. the smile is close to one phil used to give him, bemused and understanding, but also so, so sad. it’s the smile he used when tommy cried to him about something that couldn’t be helped, when the world was being unfair, and tommy tears his eyes away from tubbo’s face, fearing he may start tearing up if he doesn’t, remembering things he doesn’t particularly want to.

“i suppose so.” tubbo says quietly, and then they're silent again, tommy looking off into the distance, away from tubbo, and tubbo is looking at him (tommy can feel his eyes on him), watching him, ever attentive to his best friend’s movements and mannerisms, even after everything.

“is this a goodbye, tommy?” 

tommy freezes. tubbo’s voice is still soft, but there’s something more to it, something raw and empty and so, so emotional that tommy looks back at his best friend, his partner in crime, and his heart breaks just a little. tubbo’s looking at him still, eyes soft, and glazed with tears that haven’t fallen just yet, and tommy doesn’t know how to deal with all these emotions at once. 

“it’s okay, if it is.” tubbo continues, voice still soft, but his shoulders are shaking now, and the hiccups are coming, and the tears in his eyes are wobbling with his voice. “i just- just wanted to- to-”

and now he’s sobbing, not as softly as his voice had been, but still quietly, an arm coming up to press against his eye, in the same fashion tubbo has always cried, and tommy’s heart aches both with familiarity and something akin to sorrow, and sympathy. tubbo is a soft, quiet crier, quiet as to not make a scene, but it’s still enough for it to show that he’s crying because he’s _hurting_. tommy, instinctively, moves forward and gathers his friend up in his arms, like he normally would’ve when tubbo cries, and in that moment he feels horribly, horribly responsible for many, many things.

tommy lets him cry into his shoulder, tears soaking the fabric of his costume, and holds him gingerly, unused to physical contact after all this time, but he does remember what tubbo searches for when being comforted, and rubs his back in slow circles, like he used to when they were still kids in tommy’s house and the thunder was still too loud, too scary for them to handle. 

tommy feels selfish for wanting to be comforted the same way he was comforting tubbo in that moment.

after a few minutes, tubbo takes a deep breath in against his shoulder, and tommy reluctantly pulls back to check tubbo over, but tubbo pulls him back into their hug, his breathing still a little uneven, but he’s not crying anymore. he hugs tommy tightly, hands gripping the back of his outfit. tommy is shocked, for a moment, before he hugs back just as tightly, digging his fingers into tubbo’s sweater and pressing his face into tubbo’s shoulder. 

“i don’t know if this is goodbye.” tommy says quietly, pretending he doesn’t feel tubbo’s grip tighten impossibly at his words. “i don’t- i probably won’t see you for quite some time, Big T.” 

“ah.”

the word sounds so small, even smaller muffled against the scratchy fabric of the santa costume, and tommy squeezes his best friend gently. he’s rubbing circles into his back again, he realises absently. he’s not sure if it’s for tubbo’s comfort, or his own.

“what about- what about christmas day? will i see you then?” tubbo tries, chin propped on tommy’s shoulder now, and tommy can tell he’s grasping for straws, almost as desperately as he’s holding onto the blonde. 

distantly, tommy doesn’t think he’s going to last that long.

instead of voicing this thought, he nods gingerly, and feels tubbo relax against his body, going almost boneless. 

“good.” tubbo says, grip slackening, “good.”

tubbo sounds so relieved that tommy thinks the lie is going to eat him alive. 

“tubbo?” tommy asks, after a few more beats of silence. he feels tubbo shift in acknowledgement, and smiles, tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to wet the soft wool of tubbo’s festive sweater. “it’s been an honor.”

it feels like a goodbye, the way it comes out, and he feels tubbo chuckle scratchily against his chest, the last breath out sounding more like a sob, and tommy looks up towards the cloudy, grey, snow filled sky and wills himself not to cry.

“it has.” tubbo murmurs against him, eyes pressed once more into tommy’s jumper, hands shaking at how hard he’s gripping the fabric, at the sheer amount of emotion inside of him, that he can barely express. “it has. we’ve had fun. _i had fun today, tommy.”_

__

__

“me too, tubbo.” tommy murmurs back. “me too.”

the mutual _i miss you_ goes unsaid. 

tommy looks back down, pulls himself away from his best friend just enough to wipe some of the tears still leaking down tubbo’s face away, and makes a funny face to get a wet laugh out of his best friend, smiling at the familiar sound. 

“i’ll speak to you later, my friend. okay?”

tubbo nods, pulling him back into their hug, just as tight as the last few times, and tommy pretends the wet patch on his shoulder isn’t slowly growing again, and that his best friend isn’t shaking in his arms, and memorizing how it feels to be hugged, to have someone try to force all of the words they can’t say into his body and help him understand what they mean.

“bye, tommy.” tubbo whispers against his shoulder, and it’s definitely a goodbye, and tommy pretends like it’s not, that it’s simply an “i’ll see you later”, and just holds his friend against him.

he squeezes tubbo. it’s an apology.

tubbo squeezes back. it feels like forgiveness.

at some point, reluctantly, they let go, stepping back from each other, and tommy pretends he doesn’t see tubbo scrubbing at his face with his sleeve, though whether it's for tubbo’s pride or his own sanity, he’s unsure. and then, tubbo is stepping away from him, and the space between them is growing, and tubbo is waving at him, with a burnt out sort of smile, and then tommy’s watching his back, watching him stride away, towards where he knows fundy and quackity and the rest of ~~their~~ tubbo’s friends are waiting for him, where they used to wait for _both_ of them, where the portal ~~home~~ to new l’manberg will be, and tommy’s crying. the cold has set in, now, and there are tears leaking down his face, salt freezing painfully to skin as the apologies he never got to say push against his lips, desperately wanting to be out in the winter air for someone, anyone to hear. he wants to beg for forgiveness from tubbo so badly, and part of his brain knows he has it already, it's already been given to him, but it's not enough, it's never been enough, ( _he's_ never been enough), he has so much more that he wants to _say_ , to tell tubbo, he just-

he just wants to go home. 

and as he’s standing in the portal, dream silently standing beside him, watching the happy group across the event grounds joke with each other as they wait for their portal to be ready, he knows the nausea he feels isn’t because of portal sickness, and that the place he once called home was no longer his, and wonders if l’manberg was ever his home.

( _no_ , tommy thinks, as the purple particles consume him, ripping him away from tubbo, making his last memory of tubbo the sight of him laughing with his friends, _it never was. the people were always his home. tubbo and wilbur and fundy and eret were his home._

he doesn’t understand why that thought breaks him as much as it does. he doesn't understand why the realisation feels like a loss.)

**Author's Note:**

> come give feedback on twit? @sIimeblocks


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